


BYOE: Bring Your Own Energon

by SyntheticEuphoria



Category: Transformers Generation One
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-02-27
Updated: 2012-02-27
Packaged: 2017-10-31 19:22:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 777
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/347534
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SyntheticEuphoria/pseuds/SyntheticEuphoria
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Some of my drabbles are just too short for me to post individually. The EXPLICIT ones shall all go here.</p><p>Warnings will be posted in the individual chapters.<br/>Character tags will be added as necessary.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Bruticus/Optimus - DubCon

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Implied DubCon.

As it turned out, Optimus wasn't as against this as he'd initially acted. Even if he'd been trapped, coerced... There was no one around to help him, but also no one around to witness him like this. Pressed hard against the wall, hands trapped above him in the unyielding grip with his legs spread, he was almost grateful for the fact that he was facing away from his attacker, because it meant that he could hide his impassioned expression. His mask had been torn away some time ago.

He could do nothing to resist, not one-on-one against this particular foe. Well, if this could be truly called one-on-one... Bruticus was really five, after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Random Pairing Generator](http://www.freewebs.com/tfgenerators/TF2007generator3.html)  
>  (Bruticus / Optimus Prime / trapped)


	2. Prowl/Grimlock - BDSM

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Intended as Rough, but Consensual. Can be interpreted as Dub/NonCon.

A soft, condescending sound came from the shorter of the pair. “Stop whining.”

The other mech growled instead. “Me Grimlock not _whine!_ Me Grimlock, KING!”

A soft touch at a particular spot, and the growl died, replaced with a low mewl. “Funny, that doesn’t seem like the kind of sound a king makes to _me_ …”

“Me…m-me Grimlock rip off your pretty face and…” He broke off into another such pitiable sound, intakes hitching. The pressure had changed, rougher and more insistant, fingers sliding into a transformation seam.

“Sorry, what was that?”

“Ah… Do… do that again, or…”

“Or _what?_ ”

The pressure was gone in an instant, and Grimlock keened, thrashing what little he could against the restraints binding him.

“I asked you a question, Grimlock. _Answer it._ ”

Lubricant dripped down the Dinobot’s thighs, coating the table below him, and he whined again. Other than the port-cover being removed earlier on, he hadn’t been touched down there at _all_. “…P-please? Me Grimlock…”

“Yes~?”

“Me Grimlock… be good…”

“That’s the ticket.” Prowl smirked, and resumed tracing over the mech’s seams with nimble fingers. “That’s _exactly_ what I want to hear…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Random Pairing Generator](http://www.freewebs.com/tfgenerators/TF2007generator3.html)  
>  (Grimlock / Prowl / pressure)


	3. Starscream, Prowl - Nonsexual Gore

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No sex, but warning for EXTREME INJURY on this one, as well as copious amounts of [nonsexual] bodily fluids.
> 
> If this ever turns into a longer fic (the original intention), the working title is "Laid to Waste."

Starscream was still reading an energy signature from the mech, so he wasn’t dead, but he certainly looked the worse for wear, slumped back against the wall like that. Cautiously, nullray aimed at the still form, he stalked up to him and did a quick visual inspection: Multiple scrapes across his entire body, burn-marks and heavy denting, fluid leaking from his joints into multi-colored puddles beneath him, one door-wing ripped nearly completely away, and his left optic was shattered.

The Autobot Second-in-Command was a _mess_.

Kneeling down to look still closer, Starscream saw that there was even liquid leaking from the broken optic, but not the transparent, cleansing kind that would be normal for an injury there. No, it was the brown-tinted fluid of hydraulics. The Seeker didn’t even want to know how hydraulic fluid had ended up that high – the nearest source would have been the jaw-hinges, if he remembered his anatomy correctly.

“I don’t know if I should take you in for interrogation or for scrap metal,” he scoffed to himself. Mildly curious, Starscream reached to the back of the tactician’s helm and lightly poked an area that was torn right open – he’d never touched a living mech’s processors before…

As soon as his fingers made contact, though, there was the sparking of electricity and he pulled back from the shock. Prowl convulsed, throwing his head back and gagging. His one optic lit up, over-bright, and the dark sludge of partially-processed energon welled up in his mouth. The convulsions continued as he choked, purple muck spilling from his upturned face, and Starscream recoiled in disgust. White helm falling forwards again, the pool of energon sloshed out all across Prowl’s front.

Once it appeared that the Datsun’s fuel tanks were emptied and the involuntary spasms had ceased, Starscream moved nearer again. “Prowl?” He leant down and tipped his own head to look up at the downturned face. The blue optic was still online, though it looked unfocused and dim, now. “Oh, _Prowl~?_ ” There was no visible reaction, so he jabbed one finger into the mech’s functioning door-wing (a relatively clean space, so he wouldn’t get all _icky_ ). The half-dead mech jerked lightly in response, a messy exhalation sending a new splatter of purple droplets to the ground between his thighs.

“Goodness, but you _are_ disgusting, aren’t you?” Starscream hummed amusedly to himself. “I suppose that I will simply be forced to take you back to the Nemesis and see if Hook can repair you enough for Soundwave to hack your CPU – assuming that there is anything left worth hacking.” Considering what the back of Prowl’s helm looked like right now, that was subject to doubt.

“Starscream to Skywarp.”

“Yeah?” came the reply via internal comm.

“North side of the battlefield, just behind the big building – I need you to help me carry something.”


End file.
